


we whisper words when we’re alone at night

by notEltonJohn



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse, Robbe IJzermans - Freeform, Sander Driesen - Freeform, drijzermans - Freeform, wtfock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:49:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notEltonJohn/pseuds/notEltonJohn
Summary: Wtfock didn’t tell us why Sander didn’t want to go to the police , so I made up a reason,, enjoy !
Relationships: Drijzermans
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	we whisper words when we’re alone at night

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting something on here. Feel free to comment or whatever you want!
> 
> I hope y’all enjoy my attempt at fixing that mess of a season 3 lol
> 
> Shoutout to Kendall for being my beta for this one and for helping me edit it

They couldn’t breathe.  
He was gone now. It was over.  
Until next time.  
No. He’s gone.  
But they could still feel his hands on their throat. They could still feel gravity betraying them, all of their weight on their throat as he lifted them off the ground. They could feel the bruises blossoming on their spine from when he threw them against the wall. They could feel the red hot tears that bursted out of them.  
They couldn’t breathe.  
They couldn’t breathe.  
They gasped for air.  
There’s no air.  
No air.  
No air.  
They gasped.  
And gasped.  
And gasped.  
An- 

Sander jolted upright, taking the biggest breath they could. The longer they breathed in, the smaller they felt. They frantically took in their surroundings, looking for him in the shadows.  
But he wasn’t there.  
Sander wasn’t home. 

All they saw was a mostly empty room, blue with flooding moonlight. 

They tried to steady their breathing, but it was hard when every time they swallowed they could feel the hands- his hands- ever present on their throat. They touched their hand to their Adam’s apple, logically knowing the hands weren’t there, but they had to make sure. 

It felt so real.  
It was real. 

Robbe stirred to their right, “Sander?” His voice was raspy, heavy with exhaustion. 

Sander couldn’t speak. They could barely breathe. 

When he didn’t get an answer Robbe sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He examined his boyfriend beside him who looked like they’d seen a ghost. 

Robbe knew ghosts all too well. 

“Nightmare?” 

Sander took in a shaky breath and nodded. 

Robbe put his arms around Sander’s shoulders, nuzzling his head into their neck. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I get them too.” 

Sander closed their eyes as they let a tear fall. 

Still whispering Robbe continued slowly, “when I close my eyes, I’m back in that alley. I’m always in that alley,” he paused, waiting to see if Sander would say anything. “Sometimes, we don’t wake up with just bruised ribs and black eyes.” Sander could feel him swallow. “On my bad days, I don’t wake up at all.” He sighed softly, shifting his face up towards Sander’s. “But in my nightmares, you don’t.” 

Sander turned their head away from him. Robbe moved, giving Sander some space. 

After a minute, they looked down at their hands. “I’m not,” their voice broke. They cleared their throat and tried again. “I’m not in that alley,” they spoke slowly. “I mean, some times I am. Sometimes I can still hear the bike wheel spinning. Like an echo in my head.” 

Robbe nodded his understanding. Sometimes that bike was all he could hear. The sound of it broke him down until he was nothing but a body laying in an alley. Neither dead nor alive. 

Sander took in another shaky breath, shrinking into themselves. “But most of the time I’m in my old bedroom at home.” 

They dared to look over at Robbe as another tear spilled over the edge. Looking into his eyes, Sander found the strength to tell him what they should have told him when he first asked to go to the police. 

“When I was younger,” the hands squeezed tighter. “My- um,” breathing got harder, “my dad would get really angry.” They watched their hands fidget nervously. “He would, um, he would get really angry. Over everything. Over work. Over bills. Over me. I think he was mostly mad at the world. But he couldn’t punch the world so,” they trailed off. 

Robbe opened his mouth to speak, but Sander kept going before they could back out. “My mom knew it was happening. She saw the bruises. But she never did anything. Nothing to stop him at least.” They looked into the distance as they spoke. “She’d bring me ice and her first aid kit. And everyday before I went to school, she’d come in and put makeup over the bruises that showed.” They sighed. “It was routine. But, um, one day, my 2nd year of high school, she missed a spot on my neck.” Their hand touched the spot on reflex. “My teacher noticed and pulled me aside. I didn’t know what to do say. She asked me if someone was hurting me and I couldn’t answer. She asked me if it was at home and I couldn’t answer. She let me go and I guess she called child protective services that night. Apparently it wasn’t the first time she’d seen one of my bruises.” 

They swallowed against the hands again. “The next day when I got home there was a car I didn’t recognize in the drive way along with some police cars. And when I walked in my mother was crying at our table with strangers. I guess she felt guilty, because she wouldn’t look at me. The strangers took me away.” Their voice sounded confused as they continued. “I guess eventually they decided it was safe for me to go home. But my dad wasn’t mad at the world anymore. He was mad at me.” 

A far-away look took over as they remembered the fear they felt in those days. The fear they felt when they saw the blinding anger and hatred in their dad’s eyes. They shook the feeling away. “The police don’t fix things. They only make it worse.” 

They looked at Robbe, who had tears streaming down his face. “That’s why I don’t want to file a report. And I should’ve told you earlier. You deserve that much,” they used their thumb to wipe the tears off his cheek. 

“Don’t,” his voice broke as he leaned into Sander’s touch. “Don’t be selfless. Not now.” He waited a beat before placing his forehead against Sander’s. “You deserve that much,” he echoed. 

Sander closed their eyes and nodded, breathing in deeply. 

They stayed like that for a while. Enveloped in the silence of 4am. 

With Robbe’s weight leaning against their own, the hands loosened their grip.  
They didn’t go away.  
Sander thought they never would.  
Not completely.  
But with Robbe, Sander could breathe easier.  
And that was a miracle of its own. 

“Thank you,” they whispered.


End file.
